


The Old Fucker.

by springburn



Series: The Thick of It mini-fics [49]
Category: The Thick of It (TV)
Genre: F/M, Growing Old Together, Love, Marriage, Menopause, Older age malcolm, Sexy Sam, Tattoos, age is just a number, grown up kids, malcolm is still a silver fox, mid life crisis, relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-17
Updated: 2016-05-17
Packaged: 2018-06-08 20:38:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6872545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/springburn/pseuds/springburn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Malcolm and Sam have been together for twenty two years. What is life like for them now?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Old Fucker.

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally a prompt idea from @jenthewiscofangirl on tumblr.  
> "What about Malcolm with teenage kids?" 
> 
> I set it aside and never did anything with it. But today I thought, I can write this! 
> 
> It's a slightly different take on the prompt but it's still in the arc of the 'married with kids' au, although it's much more about Malcolm and Sam and where they are now than the grown up offspring. As usual with me, it reflects the truth of life. From the POV of a couple who have a stable long term loving relationship. It's not all fluffy kittens and rosebuds! 
> 
> But the love is still there. And as I frequently remind people, age is just a number!!
> 
> Thank you so much for the idea @jenthewiscofangirl !!

THE OLD FUCKER.

Sam placed a cup of tea at her husband's side, trailing a hand across his cheek and shoulder as she moved away.  
He captured her fingers with a deft snap, pulling her towards him into his wiry arms and twisting her into his lap. 

"Not getting away that easily!" He grinned wickedly. 

Twenty-two years married.

Now seventy.

The hair was still there. Longer, much longer. A fluff of thick curls. Now snow white.  
Face a little more lined, beaky nose more prominent in the narrow face. Eyes bright and quick as ever. 

People described him as 'vigorous', and he was. 

Whip thin. Not an ounce of fat on him. The skin may have sagged a little but he was still muscular. 

On reaching fifty he'd decided it was time to take himself in hand. He walked, he cycled, he ran. Ate sensibly, drank little. 

Fit as a butcher's dog. 

Belying his years.

Described in a GQ magazine photoshoot he'd agreed to do only recently, as the housewives' 'older man crush'. 

That had made Sam laugh. 

His hands had a couple of arthritic joints, the odd liver spots, more wrinkled now, wrapped around her own, raising them to his lips to kiss them tenderly. 

"Anything on today?" He enquired, resting his head against her breast. 

"Yeah. Grace has her interview......we're meeting her afterwards then going out to dinner.......don't tell me you've forgotten?"

"No!! I'm not completely stupid.......hang on.....I thought that was tomorrow!" 

Sam puffed, and kissed him lightly. 

"Silly old fool!" She joked.

"Oi! Less of that! I'm not fucking senile yet! I thought you said Thursday! Today's Wednesday!"

"No, I said she'd be BACK Thursday.....she's staying over with her friend." 

He nodded thoughtfully as his brain computed and the memory flashed back. 

"Oh yeah. You DID say that! Fucking demented old cunt!" 

She smiled fondly at him, and ruffled his head. 

In her early fifties now. Still beautiful, but to Malcolm she always would be. Perhaps a hint of grey in the parting, but she hadn't changed much other than that. Not to him anyway. Slim and lithe. Looking forty-five at the very most. 

In his eyes lovely. Just lovely.

With a sharp intake of breath she started to struggle from his grasp.

"Oh! Phew! Let go Malc.....quick.......I need to get down!" She wriggled to free herself. 

"Oh no! Not another one!" Her husband released her from his grip and she stood up, puffing. 

He watched, perturbed yet morbidly fascinated, as his wife turned a delicate flush of pink in the face and chest. Beads of perspiration appearing on her forehead and top lip. A clammy sheen to her skin.  
She lifted her hair from her shoulders in annoyance, and he could see the back of her neck was soaking wet. 

For a few moments she let out a series of deep gasping breaths. One hand resting on her sternum. Fanning herself frantically with the other, as slowly her face returned to normal, and she sank back down onto his thighs. 

"Gone?' He asked stroking her tenderly. 

"Yeah!" She breathed. "That one wasn't too bad." 

"Can't imagine what it must be like." He commiserated. 

"Bloody awful. I feel like I'm dying and suffocating and burning up all at the same time. But the worst thing is this horrible sense of panic.......like I'm petrified of something......but I'm not. Poxy menopause!" She sighed and leaned back into him. 

"It'll pass......eventually!" He said, smoothing her hair with one hand. 

"I bloody hope so! Well.....at least there's one consolation......we can have all the unprotected sex we want without having to worry!" She giggled.

"Yeah.....pity I'm too fucking old now to keep up with you!"

"Rubbish! You manage just fine Malcolm." 

"Well.....I can at least truly say that I'm married to a woman who's hot stuff!" He laughed. 

In truth, it was the norm that Malcolm was often stiff in the mornings, but these days it was more often his hips and knees rather than his prick, and although he might not be able to manage it more than once in a session, the old pecker hadn't let him down yet.  
He still loved and fancied his wife with exactly the same passion he always had, and that, he fervently hoped, would never change, he just found that sometimes he needed a little extraneous help to get him there!

oOo

They travelled to the University city mid morning. 

The sight of his girl. Coming across the quad. 

His darling Grace. 

Spotting them. Racing towards them, arms outstretched. 

A lump in his throat. 

She was so beautiful. The apple of his eye. Eighteen now, and quite the gifted young woman.  
Still with that cloud of blonde curls, it was like looking into the face of his own mother, when she was young.  
Statuesque. Eyes the same colour as her father's. 

Mind like a razor-blade, with rhetoric to match.  
Independent and fearless, as the young tend to be.  
As Malcolm was when he left his home to make his way in the world. Younger then, than she was now.  
It seemed so long ago. 

Always her dad's girl. Right from the very start. So sensible and matter-of-fact, even as a three year old. Wise beyond her years. 

An A* student, with an interview for Oxbridge. To read mathematics. Just like her clever mother before her. Except Sam read Economics......neither parent quite sure where the Maths gene had sprung from. 

Malcolm's pride in all his offspring knew no bounds.

"Mum! Dad! So glad you could come!" A smile that would melt glaciers. 

Shit!

He was the luckiest man alive. 

Their eldest, Jamie, now living and working in The States. Scientific Research. A brilliant graduate, with a First to his name. Robbie, the middle child, always the most like his mother, now at RADA. 

An aspiring actor.  
Only the month previously they'd been to see him in a production of Romeo and Juliet. He playing the lead. Sam had bawled her eyes out. Malcolm gazed at the stage in astonishment, couldn't really believe it was a son of his.....so bloody talented.......so assured. He'd always been the quiet one, the thinker, but he was destined for great things. 

oOo

Mother and daughter were excusing themselves.....going off together. Arms linked. He watched them depart.  
Chest swelled with emotion.  
The two women in his life. Best friends. 

Could he amuse himself for an hour or so?

No problem there. Time to reflect, that's what Malcolm had now. To reminisce on this life he'd been blessed with. His wife. His children. Everything. 

Fuck, but where had that twenty odd years gone? 

So he found a nice little coffee shop, with a window seat, a cappuccino and a piece of cheesecake, to indulge in some gratuitous people watching. 

It was bright in the sunlight, so he kept his shades on. 

Still cool as fuck! 

His daughter firmly told him so.....and who was he to argue? 

"You've so still got it Dad! Both you and mum.....all my mates say so!" 

The former Dark Lord of Downing Street was now quite a celebrity. Not that he ever wanted to be.  
An Elder Statesman. A highly respected and celebrated author. 

Often called upon as a talking head on political programmes, to pontificate on Government Policy, or on Current Affairs debates. Considered an authority. Still a regular columnist in the Guardian. 

A talented after dinner speaker too. 

Sought after. Fêted. Such as he never was during his years at Number Ten or afterwards for that matter. 

Malcolm was a Scotsman......if they were prepared to pay him a fat appearance fee, then he would turn up and be entertaining.  
Acerbic, witty, called a spade a spade, had them rolling in the aisles. 

The television producers loved him.  
So many times his predictions from twenty years ago proved startlingly accurate.  
Where were they all now? The Dan Miller's? The Nicola Murray's? Tom? Steve Fleming?.......all, without exception, faded into relative obscurity. 

Yet here HE was, frequently asked for his opinions, his pearls of wisdom, his anecdotes.  
_Question Time. Andrew Marr. Robert Peston. Newsnight._ He'd done them all, and more. 

Quite the little National Treasure! Who'd a thunk?! 

His mobile buzzed.

_"Dad? Where are you, we're done! We'll come and meet you.xxx"_

_"Coffee shop. Corner of Windsor Street. See you in a mo. Xxxx"_

_"Great. Get me and mum a couple of skinny latte's!!xxx"_

_"Consider it done. Papa. Xxx"_

His girls returned. 

Waving through the glass as they entered, giggling together like a couple of school kids. 

"What's up with you two! You look like you've both been very naughty!!"

"We have been! Oh, Dad.....we've done something really mad......it wasn't my idea......it was mum's. I'm blaming her! Well she wanted it, and I decided I'd do it too." 

"What?! What the bloody hell have you done?" He looked from one to the other with apprehension. 

Grace pulled down the waist band of her trousers, to reveal a gauze dressing. Malcolm's eyes widened, as she peeled back the sticky tape......to reveal a small butterfly tattoo on her hip. 

"Oh Christ! Fuck me!" He admonished. "And you say your mother talked you into this?"  
He shot a glance at Sam, who reddened and looked guilty. 

"Don't be angry darling." She whispered her lips close to his ear. "Wait till you see mine!" 

"For fucks sake! What's next? A ring through your nose? Is this a fucking midlife crisis?" He growled, in mock anger. 

"Don't be daft Malcolm. I told you ages ago, I wanted to mark our twenty years in some way, and I'd put it off and put it off.....and I thought, to hell with it.....I'm gonna bloody do it! So I told Grace and she was up for it too! So there we are......damage done!" 

"Well, could be worse I suppose!" He smiled ruefully. 

oOo

Later, when they were back at home, Malcolm was preparing himself for bed. Stepping out of the shower, Sam's head peeped round the door.

"You wanna see?" She asked impishly.

Malcolm stood before her naked, towelling his head vigorously. 

"Go on then! Reveal all!" He smiled. 

Sam shimmied her knickers down provocatively, to reveal her backside. 

"Fuck it Sam.....this is turning me on, and I haven't fucking seen it yet!" His hand went down to his cock unconsciously. "What the fucks that all about? Getting stiff because my wife has a tattoo on her arse!" 

Sam smiled seductively, curving her back towards him. 

A melolin patch stuck on with micropore, just at the top of her left buttock. 

She slowly peeled off the sticky tape. 

A coloured heart, a little larger than a golf ball. With an infinity symbol inside and the date of their marriage, and underneath in a flowing script.......

 

.......four words 

_"I BELONG TO MALCOLM."_

**Author's Note:**

> Obviously the picture chosen isn't Malcolm at 70 but it was just to give an idea that Malcolm is still vital and cool and not a doddering old fool at that age. 
> 
> And it's one of my favourite pictures of Peter!! Lol.


End file.
